


ObiLee, the In-Universe Love Story

by gin_dokis



Series: ObiLee [2]
Category: Naruto
Genre: F/M, Self-Insert, Selfship, and works in a bar, but so much love, emetophobia warning, i need to work on this more. fuck, there is so much angst, this insert is from kiri, this is the story of how obito and i come to be together in canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-07-09 02:00:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19879732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gin_dokis/pseuds/gin_dokis
Summary: This is how Obito and I came to be together, and how we navigate the world as such. Written in second person, but make no mistake--this is shameless selfship content. There will be updates in the future--this is going to be a long story when all is said and done.





	ObiLee, the In-Universe Love Story

“Can I get another bottle of sake over here?!” 

A drunk’s voice scathed against your concentration as you attempted to take down another customer’s order. You forced a pleasant smile to your lips before twisting around with the wrath of hell you want so badly to express locked firmly in your heart, and in your most chipper voice replied, “Certainly! Gimme one sec, I’ll have that right out for you.” Then turning back to your current customer, you widened your smile in an attempt to ease any ill feelings about your stopping to attend to the other man. “Is there anything else I can get you aside from the beer?” 

The man at the table wore an orange mask in a swirling pattern, and a thick black set of robes layered against shinobi-issue navy blue trousers. His toes peeked from the edge of the open-toed shoes he wore, painted to match his fingernails in a deep blue color. He merely shook his head, and your heart tightened in discomfort as you realized you may be losing out on a tip this evening because _some people_ can’t wait their turn. Without allowing this fear to show on your face, you strode up to the bar to fetch the requested beer and sake, dropping the sake off first to get the irate man off your case. 

You were the first to admit that you aren’t the most graceful individual. Despite that, it still shocked you when your fingers loosened just a hair too much, just milliseconds too soon, and the mug of beer in your hand thunked solidly down against the masked man’s arm. 

Absolute horror washed over you, and you fumbled for the towel in your apron to wipe the man’s sleeve clean. “Oh fuck—I’m so sorry. Oh…I shouldn’t have said that word at work—I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” The apologies rolled off your tongue effortlessly, moving as fast as your heart was throbbing. 

The man stopped you with his other hand, shaking his head calmly. “Don’t worry, I don’t really feel pain there. See?” his fingers flexed, and he clenched them against the flesh of his forearm in a way that should have been a painful pinch, but he didn’t react. A hair of relief settled into your heart at this, but your guilt was still impossibly high; his cloak would need washed now, and what if he was on a mission? Lots of shinobi came through this tavern, and beer was an easily-detected scent. What if he _died_ because of you? 

“Even if you don’t like any of the food here, let me cook for you? Free drinks? I don’t know how but I need to make this up to you. You’ll have to do your laundry now. Oh! That’s it! Let me wash your cloak for you after my shift? I work a couple more hours, but I promise I’ll be fast! I live just down the street, and I can hang it in the window so it’ll dry quickly in the summer breeze.” You felt yourself growing more and more ridiculously insistent, but it was the only thing that would soothe your growing unease.

He pretended to consider for a moment before shaking his head. “No, that won’t be necessary.” 

You frowned, heading to the back and pulling out the dango you’d brought to eat on your break, wordlessly leaving it on his table with the beer. He didn’t order anything else, but he left you with what would have been a good tip even if the spilling hadn’t occurred. You pocketed it gratefully, and tossed the empty dango container with satisfaction. 

///////////////////////////////

The next night was much less irritating—the rowdy drunks were seated in your coworker’s section, and your side was filled mostly quiet travelers for the time being. You were just falling into the rhythm of work for the night when you saw the same masked man take up residence at the table he’d commandeered the night before. Your heart lurched, but he waved you over with a cocked head. 

You obeyed both out of workplace-born force of habit and genuine curiosity, stopping a safe distance from him so that if you should drop your notepad or pen you wouldn’t hit him. He pulled up his sleeve to reveal stark white flesh, a contrast to the lightly tanned skin of his opposite wrist, but no bruises. 

“See? I told you you didn’t hurt me.” his tone was teasing, like he knew you’d been worrying and he wanted to put you at ease. The long, thick fingers of his hand flexed without pain, and you sighed aloud in relief. 

“Thank goodness…is there anything I can get you tonight?” 

He was quiet for a moment, looking at the full moon hanging high in the sky out the window behind him before replying softly, “Sake, I think.” 

You nodded, turning quickly to retrieve a bottle from the bar. This time you managed not to spill anything on him, and poured his drink with a smile. He motioned that you should sit down, and you flushed slightly; you didn’t work at a hostess establishment. Still, you looked up to the bartender, who had seen the interaction and nodded in assent to take over your tables. Pulling in a deep breath, you nodded to him and sat down with hesitation you hoped you hid well. “What brings you here two nights in a row? Are you on business in Kirigakure?” 

“Something like that,” he replied noncommittally, taking a long sip of the drink. “And you? What brought such a timid girl to work serving a clientele composed half of missing-nin?” 

You chuckled softly, covering your mouth with your hand to stifle it lest you draw unwanted attention to yourself. “Oh, I grew up in Kiri! My parents are both gone—my dad was an asshole shinobi and never home, so my mom basically raised me alone. I don’t really know anywhere else, so I’ve stayed here even if it’s dangerous by some people’s standards. Shinobi don’t scare me because they remind me of my dad and I avoided him well enough growing up.” 

“So you’re just good at avoiding danger. Interesting, then, that you should be the one to serve me two nights in a row.” His voice was lighthearted, but you could sense the underlying threat in his words.

“I bet you’re a really strong ninja but I doubt you’d kill me just for the sake of it; I don’t have any good intel or any important ties, so there’s no reason for you to hurt me. Even working in a place like this, my customers are careful not to spill too much about their origins or intentions to someone like me.” 

“How can you be so sure? This world is full of misery and pain—just because you’ve evaded it so far doesn’t make you exempt.” His tone was suddenly frustrated, and you felt your pulse quicken in response, a combination of fear and interest at the shift. 

“Well, I can’t be completely sure, but I know that if I walk around worried all the time I won’t ever leave my house, and I already spent a lot of time holed up and scared of everything between my childhood and my last boyfriend.” Your tone soured at this, and he cocked his head in surprise. You could see the interest grow in his posture, and you sighed. “He cheated on me while he was visiting his family. He’d been talking about proposing, asking me to look at rings just before he left, but…” you shrugged, mouth tightened into a thin, miserable line. “Clearly my love story was meant to be written with someone else.” 

“Love story? Like _Icha Icha?_ ” 

You were conscious that he was asking a lot more questions than you, that the conversation was lopsided, but the words came out regardless; he felt safe to talk to, something you’d never known in a man before. “Sort of! I really like to write romance stories, especially adult romance. I’ve never been published, but I keep everything I write just in case. Sometimes I get ideas at work and I scribble them down on napkins so I won’t forget.” To prove the point, you fished carefully in the pocket of your apron, pulling out the latest in a series of many workplace-inspired ideas. 

“ _Witch in the forest tends to shinobi escaping from world war, they save each other from their darkness,_ " he read dryly, shaking his head. “What darkness?” 

“Oh, the witch had been abused and ostracized by her community for her powers and the shinobi has awful PTSD about his time in the war.” You missed the derision in his tone, and answered honestly, so you were taken aback by the vitriol in his voice when he responded.

“You think that romance fixes everything?” 

“No! No, not at all. Just that the sort of closeness that brings about healing can also bring about romance from that level of support, I don’t mean to say that love fixes everything—” 

You saw him turn his head, and the glowing red from inside the eyehole of his mask brought you to a screeching halt. _Sharingan._ The eye trained on you mercilessly, but you didn’t look away; if he wanted to trap you in a genjutsu he’d have already done it. You knew you were no match for him in speed or evasion, and his energy felt…safe, even if he was doing his best to bristle it. 

He blinked a few times, leaning forward in irritation. “Have you really never heard of the sharingan?” 

“I have,” you allowed quietly. “but your energy doesn’t feel threatening. You feel safe somehow.” 

He took a moment to regard you, looking for something beyond your grasp, before pulling a handful of hundred ryo coins from his pocket, tossing them on the table and turning to leave. A sadness settled in you then, realizing that you had driven away someone who felt so nice and who appeared so lovely. 

///////////////////////////////////

It was over a week before he returned. You spend all that time wondering—an Uchiha so far from Konoha, when they were meant to be a largely extinct clan. You didn’t wonder too hard at this though, considering that there was a chance some Uchiha had had children outside their knowledge or outside the village, ones that might have escaped the slaughter. 

You were bussing tables, clearing away empty bottles and picked-apart dinners and wiping them down for the next customer, when he entered in that silent way of his. He wasn’t wearing the same cloak as before, just the standard-issue shinobi pants and a long-sleeved top to match. They fit tightly against a well-muscled frame, and gloves covered his clever fingers. He looked pointedly at you before seating himself in your section, same as last time. 

You did your best to greet him with the same cheerful tone you always used for your customers, but couldn’t quite bring it up to standard. “Hello, sir!” you faltered, seeing that he was again gesturing for you to sit down. Heart in your throat, you signaled to the bartender, settling yourself at his side and preparing to pour the sake that was being brought over. He stopped you though, instead pouring some for you and observing silently as you sipped it. 

The sake burned your tongue, the dryness of the alcohol never quite to your liking despite its quick effects. Still, you didn’t want to be seen as rude when the man had been so kind thus far. He chuckled lowly at the face you’d made without realizing, and you blushed at the obvious difference in your maturity. “Not a fan of sake?” 

“Well, it’s not really that so much as—I mean…no, not particularly. It’s okay, I just like girly drinks better. Stuff that tastes sugary and fruity.”

“Oh, so you like your drinks like you like your romance.” His voice lilted with a teasing tone, much less harsh than his previous considerations on your interactions with romance. 

That tone was enough to stir your irritation, but you kept your voice in check. “ _Actually,_ every hint of romance I’ve ever had has been disappointingly bitter, so I write my own to satisfy the vacancy. What about you? No kunoichi waiting to fuck their way into the great Uchiha clan?”

A disgruntled noise left his throat as if he found the entire concept ludicrous. “No. I gave up on love a long time ago.” 

“Oh.” You wanted to say more, but felt yourself growing too sad to do so. Instead, you bit the inside of your bottom lip and muttered, “What about the forests of Konoha? Was it fun to grow up among the trees?” 

“Trees and I get along only marginally well for various reasons,” he replied curtly. “My turn. Why aren’t you afraid of me?” 

“Why would I be afraid of you?” you asked with genuine curiosity. “If you wanted to kill me I’d be dead before I could react, right? So what’s the use in cowering?” 

He nodded his assent, agreeing with this and not objecting to your pointing out the gap in strength between the two of you. “How long have you worked here?” 

“A few years now, I got this job after my parents passed. It’s not my dream career or anything, I just need something to pay the bills that isn’t working in the whorehouse, which wouldn’t suit me either; I’m way too emotional about sex.” 

He missed the faintest beat at your description of sex before the interrogation began again. “Have you ever been in shinobi training?” 

“No…I knew I’d never make it through the academy. Especially not in Blood Mist Village.” 

“How can you sense the level of threat coming from me then?” he stopped you as if he was thinking he caught you in a lie, as if this would tear your entire story down. You didn’t allow him to do so though, and continued to answer as honestly and completely as you were able. 

“I dunno, I just have always been able to tell, sort of on instinct, what’s safe and what isn’t.” 

The questioning went on this way for the rest of the night, and well on into the week. The routine grew to be the same—he entered the establishment a few hours into your shift, and you sat with him the rest of the night and indulged his curiosity. Your boss had questioned it exactly one time, and in the man’s presence, only to be handed a fistful of thousand-ryo notes. “This should excuse her from her duties until further notice.” 

The manager made no further comment, instead working in your place at the times the man was present. 

The weeks turned into a few months, routinely running the same way day in and day out when one of your neighbors asked you to blend a throat-soothing tea; you were known among your acquaintances as being somewhat knowledgeable about herbs. 

Being actively concerned for the well-being of others you accepted the task wholeheartedly, and set about packing your things; you were out of a particular herb that only grew in the Land of Grass, and knew of no merchants in the area selling it, but couldn’t blend tea without it. 

The problem was asking your new companion, whose name had not yet been revealed to you, to accompany you. It was a day’s walk in both directions excluding time spent rowing to the mainland, and you knew that you _could_ make the trip alone but were also painfully aware of the number of missing-nin originating from your village, especially now that he had argued so intensely as to remind you of the gap in your abilities. 

He was seated at the usual table when you arrived this time, which threw you slightly, but you brushed it off as his having nothing else to do that day. He didn’t offer you drinks this time, instead opting to order fried rice which he shared readily with you. The two of you ate wordlessly for a few minutes before you began to pick nervously at the dried skin around the nailbeds on your fingers. He noticed your hands disappear under the table and you stiffened when he pointedly asked, “What are you doing?” 

Great. A nervous chuckle covered your momentary panic, and you halted the motion immediately, realizing that it could be seen as a threat or sign of aggression among shinobi. “Oh, I just. Nervous habit, y’see. I was actually wanting to ask…if you would accompany me on a trip tomorrow. I know it’s short notice and you probably have important shinobi business with your being in Kiri so long, but I thought I’d ask anyway.” 

“Where are you going?” he seemed nonplussed, which was as good a sign as any given the situation you found yourself in by asking what amounted to an acquaintance to act as your unpaid security detail. 

“I need to head to the Land of Grass to collect chamomile so I can make up some special tea blends for my neighbor; she’s sick with a cold that just won’t quit. The chamomile masks the flavor of the more medicinal herbs, so it isn’t so horrible to drink.” 

He nodded to himself, taking a sip of his drink before murmuring, “I suppose we can’t have you out there all alone now can we…you said you leave tomorrow?” 

You hummed in response, taking another bite of the fried rice. “I understand why if not, and I don’t mean to make you feel obligated by any means, but you’re really the only person I know that I could think of to ask. All my other customers are…” you trailed off, making a face rather than saying precisely what you thought in case one should happen to be listening in. “Anyway, it’s completely up to you, but I figured I had nothing to lose in asking.” 

“If we leave at noon you’ve got yourself a deal.” His voice was firm, as if he’d made up his mind and he wanted no more discussion on the matter. 

“Aaaaaa! Thank you!” you squealed, smiling broadly and taking a sip of the glass of water to your left. “I’ll be sure to harvest a lot this time so I’ll be able to properly keep up with demand.” 

He didn’t respond aloud, but you got the sense that behind his mask he was smiling.

////////////////////////////////////////////////

When you departed the next morning the sun was high in the sky, and you waited outside the tavern entrance so he would know where to find you; you hadn’t told him where you lived. He met you about thirty minutes after noon, and you began to walk toward the coast. It would be about two hours before you reached it, and then another two on the water, culminating with three when you got to the land of grass; you should reach it around sundown. This would allow you to rest and leave early in the morning, arriving back in Kirigakure the next night. 

You’d never realized it, but the man seemed to tower over you despite the mere four inches in height difference. His bulk and his demeanor added to the intimidation, and you couldn’t help but feel fragile next to him. 

“I never got the chance to ask,” you said suddenly, a few minutes into the walk. “What would you like me to call you? I know better than to just ask your name because you’d probably have to give me a fake one anyway—” 

“Obito,” he replied quietly, as if unsure of himself. “You can call me Obito, so long as we aren’t in the tavern. There I want you to call me Madara.” 

“Oh, okay!” you were unsure what to do with the knowledge that he had trusted you with something so precious as his name, so you filed the information away and vowed to do your best to be a good caretaker to it. “I’m Kaylee!” 

“That suits you,” he mused, turning it over in his mind. “It sounds like the name of a writer.” 

“Thanks! My parents named me with both of their middle names, since I’m supposed to be a combination of them. I look and act too much like my dad though.” You frowned with self-imposed irritation, and he snickered. 

“Oh, sure, you definitely act so much like a shinobi.” The sarcasm rolled off him in waves, and you felt yourself cracking a grin. 

“Hush! You’re one to talk, you’re not wicked either. You have a very good heart. I can tell these things.” 

“Really? And what can you tell about my heart?” there was a level of genuine curiosity in his voice, and you did your best to honor it. 

“I’m serious, it’s part of my powers as a romance writer. I can look at anyone and tell not only what they’re like as a partner, but also what they like in bed.” 

He stopped walking, turning to you with an incredulity that rolled off him in waves. “You can’t either. What a ridiculous lie.” 

You smiled with self-satisfaction, prepared to call his bluff without hesitation. “Name anyone and I’ll tell you how they like to be fucked.” 

“Hmmm…how about that jonin, Mei Terumi?” 

“Oh so you have the hots for Terumi? Hmm…” You did your best to focus, but sudden and fierce sadness grasped your heart as you considered his lusting after another woman, especially one so elegant and capable. _You’ve never even seen his face, Kaylee. Get a fucking grip. He’s allowed to be interested in anyone he wants to be; you’re not dating, you’re not committed, his love life is nowhere near your business._ “I feel like she really enjoys a bit of ageplay. She wants to be a fair bit younger, probably very early twenties, and she wants her partner to comment a lot on her youth or inexperience. Maybe a schoolgirl outfit? She also really likes body worship around her thighs and hips.” 

“Huh. What about…Mangetsu Hozuki?” he seemed to be naming off any famous shinobi you might be familiar with, which was soothing in a way; perhaps Mei Terumi was not a love interest after all, but merely someone he thought you would be aware of living in Kiri. Reassured by this possibility, you thought back on the menacing figure of Mangetsu, who you’d served a few times in your time at the tavern. 

“He’s into hardcore marking—he likes to bite his partner and make them bleed with just his teeth, and he likes to fuck them in water. He won’t tell anyone this, but I bet he uses his kekkei genkai to shape his dick to suit his partner so no matter who he fucks he always feels big.” 

At this Obito spluttered, as if he hadn’t thought of that and wasn’t prepared for how realistic it seemed. “Okay, okay. Maybe you have some form of talent because I can definitely see that, but here’s the one that’ll prove or disprove your powers—Kakashi the Copy Ninja from Konoha.” 

“Hmm…he’s not someone I’ve ever met. Do you have a bingo book with his picture?” 

He wordlessly pulled it out, flipping to a page that was well-worn and obviously often-viewed. The silver-haired shinobi looked bored in his picture, the sharingan covered with his headband. “Kakashi…he’s probably into erotica, like smutty romance and love letters. Maybe a scent kink? Panty sniffing and such. Probably likes to fuck from behind too.” 

“Ugh, ew…I really shouldn’t have asked.” His hand came up to his face as if he was obscuring a blush of horror and disgust, and you felt laughter bubbling from your throat. 

“Admit it! I have mad skills.” The smugness in your tone was something you couldn’t deny, and he seemed a bit begrudging but conceded that you did, in fact, have an unnatural ability. He refrained from listing more ninja for now, but you got the sense that this was more out of the shock resulting from your proving him wrong than from the end of his curiosity. 

You walked a bit longer in relative silence, broken only by Obito’s occasional warning to _watch your step_ accompanied by a firm, guiding hand on your waist to lead you around shuriken and kunai half-buried in the road. You were thankful for these, imagining the unhappy slice through your foot should you have stepped onto one. 

///////////////////////////////////////////////  
The docks along the edge of Kirigakure held many boats, available for rent for up to weeks at a time; ninja didn’t need them to travel with, but civilians and merchants required a mode of transport to and from the village without the luxury of walking on water.  
L   
Obito nearly strode out over the water before remembering you had no skill in chakra control and sighing. “I had forgotten how slowly civilians travel.” 

A displeased flush coated your cheeks, and you frowned. “Sorry…I’ll be as quick as I can be. I won’t ask you to row either.” 

“I never said that,” he retorted sharply, snatching the oars before your hands could seize them. “Sit down; you’ll tip the boat otherwise.” 

With a pouting huff you settled into the boat, arms crossed like a petulant child’s. “Let me know when you want me to take a turn. I expect to be able to at least do half.” 

He didn’t acknowledge this, the rhythmic sound of the oars slipping through the water the only sound to meet your ears. His shoulders bulged and flexed, arms tightened and muscles on full display. The blatant show of strength made you blush, wondering what those arms might feel like wrapped around you, so you tucked your chin into your shirt to hide the expression. 

The water disappeared quickly beneath his oar strokes, and soon Obito had moved past the halfway point in the water so that the opposite shore appeared closer than ever. The mists closed around the boat, and you reached over the side of the boat to run your fingers through the frothy moisture. 

“Obito, it’s halfway. Let me take a turn? I know you’re really strong and all, but you’re doing me a favor by coming along like this…it wouldn’t be fair of me to make you row me around and protect me and not do my equal share.” Your voice wasn’t teasing this time; you were sincere in your wish you make things fair between the two of you. 

“This is nothing to me, Kaylee.” His tone was simultaneously stern and soft. “I am far too strong to be tired out by simple rowing like this, but it would exhaust you. You need to keep your energy up so that when we reach the Land of Grass you’ll be able to harvest quickly and efficiently.” 

A long, whiny screech of frustration came from you before you thought to stop it; you often vented frustration this way in the comfort of your own home. But the consequences of doing that in a place like this were much different, and Obito whipped around to cover your mouth with a gloved hand. “What are you doing?!” 

“I—oh fuck. Sorry! I just—do that. At home, I mean. When I’m frustrated or think something is unfair.” Absolute humiliation curdled your gut as you realized how vastly immature you’d made yourself seem to him. Even if it was something you did at home, his point that you were ill-equipped to deal with the dangers of this shinobi world alone was proven with your lack of restraint. 

He shook his head, slowly removing his hand once he was assured that you wouldn’t continue with the screeching. “You’re so weird.” 

“Well what’d you expect?” you demanded indignantly. “You’re traveling with a person who can spontaneously infer sexual interests from absolute strangers, and you thought I wouldn’t be weird?”

He shrugged as if this was a valid point and dropped the subject, rowing with a bit more vigor in an attempt to reach shore sooner. 

The silence stretched for a few moments as you watched the horizon, noting the birds dipping to fish as you passed. Finally, you made up your mind as to what to bring up next. “How much longer will you be around?” You asked this as ambiguously as possible to redeem yourself from the prior slip-up, but curiosity still burned in your heart; shinobi out of their usual land often didn’t stay long, maybe a year or two at the very most as they completed infiltration missions. And who knew how long he’d been around the area before you met him?

He considered this for a moment before his voice broke the silence, words chosen carefully, “As long as it takes.”

“…will you say goodbye before you leave?” you couldn’t help the forlorn shape your tone had taken, sadness at the realization of his looming departure much more intense than you’d wanted to consider. 

He nodded without hesitation, and you caught an intense sense that he was smiling at you. You smiled back for all you were worth, not wanting to miss the opportunity. 

///////////////////////////////////////

When you reached land, he steadied the boat before extending a hand, supporting you on your way out of the unstable craft. Again you were struck by the sheer _solidity_ of his strength, of the gap between your own abilities, and exhilaration swarmed through you. You smiled at him, grateful for the help (you were in fact rather clumsy) and began your trek through the Land of Grass. 

Chamomile grew in drier climates than the one you were used to in Kirigakure, so you had to move a bit further inland to reach the area where it was plentiful, by which point you were admittedly growing rather tired. The sun was beginning to set, and you had a sneaking suspicion that Obito would be able to see much more easily in the dark than you could. 

He seemed to read your mind. “Let’s camp there, up in that little grove of trees, and first thing in the morning you can harvest.” He gestured to a small cluster of trees that seemed impossibly tall, but you supposed it was the Konoha shinobi in him; he wouldn’t be daunted by trees of any height. Not wanting to appear weak to him, you nodded and strode up toward them, looking for low-hanging branches you might climb. 

There was no warning as his hands, large and warm, settled on your waist and you suddenly became airborne, hurtling toward the treetops with nauseating speed. He set you in the fork of a rather large tree branch before tying a thin wire around your middle, securing you in case of a slip (which was a massive blessing in disguise if you intended to have any sleep at all that night, as you moved a lot in your sleep). 

The nausea was insistent as your eyes surveyed the sheer distance between your location and the ground, and you felt yourself gag. You leaned over, praying to anyone that would listen that you wouldn’t be sick in front of Obito. 

It happened anyway.

You found yourself retching, twisted to keep from dribbling anything down your front and watching with a blend of additional discomfort and satisfaction as it instead splattered about twenty feet down the tree. 

Obito was looking at you, and you felt your face redden in shame. “Sorry…I didn’t expect the height change to hit me so squarely in the stomach. That was really gross. I hope you can still eat?” you wiped your mouth with your left sleeve, wincing at the smear it left. 

He didn’t protest the idea of sustenance, so you shifted, pulling the pouch at your side so that you could reach into it with your right hand and hold a sandwich out to him. “They’re at their best warm, but it’ll still be better than nothing.” He took the sandwich gratefully, and you froze as he shifted his mask up just a hair, so you could see the shadowed form of his chin. It was strong, faintly coated with stubble at the moment, and there were scars running up along the right side. You choked a bit on your sandwich, and found yourself coughing to dislodge the piece of rogue ham, praying you wouldn’t be sick _again_. 

He looked up under his lashes carefully, voice noncommittal in the most calculated sense. “Something wrong?” 

“I just…” you could tell your cheeks were heating and felt utterly ridiculous for being so easily riled by what amounted to two inches of bare skin. “Bit my tongue,” you finished lamely, unable to be honest and admit _HOLY SHIT you’re fucking hot_ to your traveling companion. 

He accepted this, but the mask was back in place before you’d finished even a third of the sandwich. You pretended not to notice it as being strange, focusing instead on slowing your raging heartbeat. 

///////////////////////////////////////////

Nightfall came, and your little camp offered an excellent view of the stars. Obito seemed unimpressed, but you did your best to point out shapes, even if they weren’t recognized as constellations. He kept his aloof nature until you pointed out one that seemed to be a sharingan except spaced a bit oddly, which piqued his interest; apparently he’d never noticed it before. It was then that you learned that he had an extensive knowledge of the night sky, and apparently watched it on a regular basis as a means of direction when traveling. 

The Land of Grass was much colder than your native Kirigakure, and the lack of humidity made a startling difference in your ability to stay warm. Having never left Kiri outside summertime before, you had a light jacket, thin pants and boots—that was the warmest attire ever needed, and often enough to bring you sweating while sitting still. The cold of the night air here had you shivering, and you jolted in shock as a thick cloak settled over you, seemingly produced from nowhere—black with red clouds. The pattern was faintly familiar, but you couldn’t place where you’d seen it; perhaps at the bar? You snuggled into its warmth, and murmured a grateful “thanks,” to Obito, who shrugged as if this was nothing special. 

“Do you want me to take first watch, or do you want to do it?” you kept your tone level, trying not to be accusatory even though you had a fair certainty that he never intended to include you in the watch schedule.

He shook his head, as if the idea was outrageous. “Just sleep. If something comes I’ll wake up. This area is dangerous, yes, but not as dangerous as I am.” 

This wasn’t what you were concerned about. “Promise you’re actually gonna sleep?” 

His sigh was faint, but you still caught it as his shoulders sagged with what he seems to take as chastisement. “Yes, I’ll actually sleep.”

“Thank you,” you hummed happily, snuggling down into the cloak that smelled faintly of earth, smoke, and the unique scent of Obito himself. 

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////

You woke in the morning sunlight, still tied securely to the tree limb you had fallen asleep on. The cloak was twisted into your arms, held against your chest like a well-loved teddy bear. Obito was nowhere to be found, and you felt a brief moment of alarm as you realized that you would be stuck here if he decided to move on without you, tied as you were to the tree. That fear was instantly quelled at the sight of him striding through the morning light toward the base, hair faintly wet; apparently he’d washed off in the stream a mile further along the road.

He appeared at your side almost instantly, hands reaching around to unwind the wire you’d been bound to the tree with. “You know, you should really be more careful about who you let bind you this way…what if I was some kind of closet pervert?”

“The chances of there being two closet perverts on this tree at once are astronomical,” you teased deadpan, smiling at him despite his serious tone. “I told you, you’re not just anyone. You feel safe.”

He shook his head, pulling you to his chest as he jumped down. This time he kept a hand on the back of your head, cradling it so that you wouldn’t catch sight of the scenery rushing by. His chest was thick, well-muscled and the scent of him had a pleasant, masculine spice. It filled you with security, with the softest warmth. 

You wanted to keep that scent with you as long as possible. To that end, you pulled the cloak he’d laid over you last night on properly, even though it drug behind you, and smiled at him. “Ready to go?” 

He shook his head grimly, tone ringing with a startling level of finality. “I don’t want anyone to see you wearing that.” 

Embarrassment at your forwardness crashed over you, led by sadness at his blatant rejection. You pulled it off immediately and handed it to him, sloppily folding it into his arms. You weren’t quite sure where you’d seen the pattern, but apparently your faint recognition had been right to some degree; this cloak was important. “I’m sorry…”

He shook his head again, this time with less aggression. “Don’t worry about it. You just aren’t equipped to handle the enemies that would present themselves should you be associated with it.” 

_Oh._

“I’m really sorry Obito…I wasn’t trying to tarnish your reputation, I promise.” 

He didn’t respond, just motioned to the road ahead and the chamomile to either side. 

“Oh! Right,” you did your best to keep your tone upbeat, striding forward so that he wouldn’t see the tears beginning to rim your eyes from your wildly swinging emotions. You sank to your knees in a patch of chamomile, selecting the best-looking shoots and packing them into your bag after a quick spray with a drying agent. 

It took a few hours to fill the pack, and by the time you stood the tears that had coated your cheeks that morning were gone. Instead they were replaced by dirt smears from wiping the sweat from your face with dirty fingers. 

“Obito? Are you ready to go?” you called, turning to find him missing. There was no answer for a moment, and you sighed, beginning to pick your way through the thickly growing grass to find the road. It was then that you saw him standing to the side, speaking to an extremely large man with an equally large sword strapped to his back. _Oh fuck that’s Kisame Hoshigaki. Hide…hide…hide he can’t see you here…_

You ducked behind a tree, heart hammering in your chest as the faintest hint of conversation reached your ears. “Well, who’s this? Don’t tell me you’ve taken up charity, Madara.” 

“She’s a paying client.” His tone was curt, silencing the other man’s impending teasing. You peered from around the side of the tree, watching as the Kiri nin shunshined away only to freeze in absolute terror as the same voice from before spoke directly behind you.

“Be careful of Madara, alright? You seem like a nice kid, too nice to get caught up in something where you’ll just end up dead.” 

You found your tongue to respond, but he was gone as quickly as he appeared.

///////////////////////////////////

Obito spoke very little the rest of the journey, though you did your best to coax him out of his self-imposed isolation. He said nothing about the interaction with Kisame, although it seemed to have put him on edge. This culminated in a stop at a dango stand along the way, just outside the boundaries of Kiri. Without hesitation he reached for coins to pay despite it having been your suggestion, but you stopped him. “Nope! My treat. I wish I could pay you what I know you’re worth, but…I hope this at least makes up for it a little?” 

He tutted quietly in disagreement, twisting the mask up the _faintest_ hint to slip the dango beneath it. His lips closed over the treat, tongue flicking out as he pulled the stick back to catch the sauce that coated his lips. 

Your face turned starkest red, and you did your best to focus on your own dango, being sure to savor it and focus on _anything_ but his face. He continued to eat, humming softly in happiness, and you felt moisture pooling between your legs. 

Fuck. 

You shifted, pressing your thighs together to attempt to provide some sense of relief from the raging heat that was coursing through your body, but found it next to impossible. He was still groaning softly around the stick of dango, and the sounds were rocketing _straight_ to your pussy.

“Thank you so much, ma’am!” you called much more loudly than necessary to the woman running the stand. She nodded in acknowledgement, smiling and waving as you stood in an undeniable rush. Obito followed suit, apparently unaware of the effect he’d hand on you. 

“Thanks for the dango,” he murmured, pulling the pack of chamomile away from you and slinging it onto his back. 

You cocked a brow quizzically, but he shook his head. “Now that you’ve indebted me you better get your money’s worth, right?”

“Absolutely not. Give me back my backpack,” you hissed, making a grab for it with all the pent-up aggression of your sexual tension. He blocked the motion and instead you found yourself clutching his hand, fingers wrapped tightly around his own.

You both froze, apparently realizing the implications at exactly the same time. You glanced up into his eyes and noted the sharingan spinning there, so you dropped his hand and stepped away, apologizing profusely. “Oh I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to grab you I just…I just didn’t want you to spoil me too much. I should’ve asked before I touched you that was super not okay of me—”

He stalked off without another word, leaving you hustling to keep up with the brisk pace he set. The rest of the trip was silent, and you felt yourself heavily weighed on by the guilt of having ruined whatever friendship the two of you had. You were the one who had made things weird, and it was your own fault that you would suffer alone now. 

You parted ways at your front door just as the sun set, and he laid the pack against the frame of the door rather than handing it directly to you. Sorrow settled in your heart, but you still managed to call out, “Thank you so much for your help!” 

You made it inside your tiny home before bursting into tears.


End file.
